thegreenleafe

The Rain in The Cyclopean City: An H.P. Lovecraft/Cthulu Mythos Roleplay.

Let me know what you think @Haydrian Cindel

Valentino Ricci

Name: Valentino "Val" Ricci

Age: 26

Occupation: Bootlegger

Interests: Fast cars, baseball, reading

Fears and Phobias: Drowning never sat well with Valentino, despite the fact he has on the giving end of that situation a handful of times. The first time Valentino killed a man he was forced to hold the man's soon-to-be-deceased head under water. Just the struggling before finally collapsing still sent shivers down his spine.

Superstitions: Val will knock on wood to prevent bad luck, as well as the occasional sign of the cross for more dire situations. The quick hand of his mamma also instilled an unhealthy fear to not spill olive oil.

Skills: Pistols, amateur fighting, Italian, driving, charisma

Intelligence and Sanity: Val never did make his way Chicago university, not that he doesn't have the brains, he just never was cut out for school. The lack of book smarts is made up by street smarts. Val is not the kind of man to break under pressure, however some of his past deeds are pushed down deep, searching for a way out.

Back Story: Chicago born and bred Valentino was the only son of Salvatore Ricci, one of the Caporegime, the captains, of the Chicago mob. He was a strict man and a loving father, however when it came time to choose Salvatore put his other family first.Despite many broken promises Val still loved his father and from a young age to the current day he would do anything just to gain approval. This pushed Valentino into a life on the other end of the law. It really started with the trouble in school, which slowly increased to petty vandalism and finally to a full time job running bootleg alcohol from Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan.

Bootlegging is something near and dear to Val. The thrill of it all, pumped by each beat of heart gives him something he can't find anywhere else and its lucrative. Being in your 20's with a pocket full of cash makes you spend money like a fool and for the right car Val would spend a fortune. Luckily, one of the perks of being associated with gangsters was that they might be able to pick one up off the docks for a fraction of the price. However this lifestyle does have drawbacks. It was years ago, but Val can still remember it clearly.O ne of his father's men was seen talking to the police and any form of crime, organized or not generally does not look kindly on rats. Val still doesn't know why his father chose him to do it, maybe he needed to show dedication or possibly just prove he was a man, yet he still had to do it. It shook him to the core, but he soldiered on. Val has killed many men, but nothing was as haunting as the first.

As the years went on Val continued to make himself useful to his father and those above him. Things were good in his life until his father came down with tuberculosis. It started with blood on his handkerchief and quickly progressed. As of this year he has been confined to his bed and stays wracked by red viscous coughs. It was not too long back when a letter crawled in speaking of the an old debt that needed to be repaid. In his father's place Valentino Ricci is sent out and dispatched to settle matters of a time past.

The Rain in The Cyclopean City: An H.P. Lovecraft/Cthulu Mythos Roleplay.

I'm interested! I'll be typing something up.

Hellion Exiles

@t2wave Y'arr we could work something up

Hellion Exiles

My Dude

Name - Artyom Yolkov

Age - 25

Species - Human

Role - Pirate

Gender - Male

Appearance – The strong cheekbones of the Slavic people have been graciously passed down the Yolkov bloodlines and Artyom is no different. His hair is a striking ebony, especially in contrast to his fair skin. When possible he tries to make it back to Earth for a cut from his old neighborhood. His icy eyes are, who would think, cold at first. However, in the presence of friends they seem to warm up a little.

Personality – Artyom is strongly loyal and stays true to his word for those close to him. As the middle child of six he has experienced his fair share of mistreatment, of course he can dish it right back. Family is important to Artyom and he tries his best to manage his “work” and demands from his family.

History – Artyom was born in the Southside Glen, in New New York. The primarily Russian neighborhood was the kind of place where the closest thing to law and order was mob justice. It’s not the ideal place for to lay down a family, but being born into poverty always makes it difficult to get out of it. Artyom’s parents were born and raised in the south side and they decided to stay in the only home they ever knew. They were both honest people, well as honest as anybody could be when your neighborhood is way below the poverty line. When Artyom was young he often asked his papa what he did, he would often reply “Something here, something there, I just put food on the table.” Later his older brother Peter told him that Alexei worked with the Berbatov family and detailed a couple of stories their father told him. Young boys often idolize their father’s and Artyom was no different. Sure, his mother wasn’t excited years down the line when her little Arty followed in his footsteps.

He had a knack for the business making it up the chain, Artyom had no real interests in being Don Corleone. The rush he felt from his first robbery was a high he chased ever since, but like any other poor kid his eyes were to the sky. The first time he smuggled was the first time he had gone anywhere above sea level, it was also his first brush with death. The UGCP does not take to kindly to kind of degenerate and the scrap-welded ship used to smuggle drugs and weapons was no different. The back of the ship was blown off just as they entered orbit sending the ship crash landing, luckily, right outside of their neighborhood. Of the few people on the ship half died and it might be hard to pay their respects in prison so anybody who was left limped off before ground forces could arrive. For some reason the brush with death almost had Artyom pitching a tent, he knew he had to keep smuggling. It only became a little complicated when Artyom knocked up a neighborhood, Sofia, thus completing the cycle of poverty. With luck the career criminal had twin girls named, Dina and Vera. When he isn’t running guns or drugs or both Artyom spends time at home.
Equipment – Artyom tries to keep it light day to day. At most you can catch him with a top of the line UGCP pistol, with a few modifications to add some extra stopping power. He isn’t formally trained, but he can hit a moving object. Artyom is best with his pistol, but he can use an assault rifle decent as well. He would have no idea what to do with any form of heavy weapon besides point and shoot.

Ship – N/A

Activity – I’m off at 7 CST so I could generally put up a post after work.

Extras – Artyom can fly a small ship if need be, he’s no Solo, but he won’t crash.

Hellion Exiles

@Thread Generator SIN Here I popped this up, it's been a while since I've been able to creatively write. It's mostly been lab reports, but I'm pretty excited to be able to add a little bit of color to my words.

My Dude

Name - Artyom Yolkov

Age - 25

Species - Human

Role - Pirate

Gender - Male

Appearance – The strong cheekbones of the Slavic people have been graciously passed down the Yolkov bloodlines and Artyom is no different. His hair is a striking ebony, especially in contrast to his fair skin. When possible he tries to make it back to Earth for a cut from his old neighborhood. His icy eyes are, who would think, cold at first. However, in the presence of friends they seem to warm up a little.

Personality – Artyom is strongly loyal and stays true to his word for those close to him. As the middle child of six he has experienced his fair share of mistreatment, of course he can dish it right back. Family is important to Artyom and he tries his best to manage his “work” and demands from his family.

History – Artyom was born in the Southside Glen, in New New York. The primarily Russian neighborhood was the kind of place where the closest thing to law and order was mob justice. It’s not the ideal place for to lay down a family, but being born into poverty always makes it difficult to get out of it. Artyom’s parents were born and raised in the south side and they decided to stay in the only home they ever knew. They were both honest people, well as honest as anybody could be when your neighborhood is way below the poverty line. When Artyom was young he often asked his papa what he did, he would often reply “Something here, something there, I just put food on the table.” Later his older brother Peter told him that Alexei worked with the Berbatov family and detailed a couple of stories their father told him. Young boys often idolize their father’s and Artyom was no different. Sure, his mother wasn’t excited years down the line when her little Arty followed in his footsteps.

He had a knack for the business making it up the chain, Artyom had no real interests in being Don Corleone. The rush he felt from his first robbery was a high he chased ever since, but like any other poor kid his eyes were to the sky. The first time he smuggled was the first time he had gone anywhere above sea level, it was also his first brush with death. The UGCP does not take to kindly to kind of degenerate and the scrap-welded ship used to smuggle drugs and weapons was no different. The back of the ship was blown off just as they entered orbit sending the ship crash landing, luckily, right outside of their neighborhood. Of the few people on the ship half died and it might be hard to pay their respects in prison so anybody who was left limped off before ground forces could arrive. For some reason the brush with death almost had Artyom pitching a tent, he knew he had to keep smuggling. It only became a little complicated when Artyom knocked up a neighborhood, Sofia, thus completing the cycle of poverty. With luck the career criminal had twin girls named, Dina and Vera. When he isn’t running guns or drugs or both Artyom spends time at home.
Equipment – Artyom tries to keep it light day to day. At most you can catch him with a top of the line UGCP pistol, with a few modifications to add some extra stopping power. He isn’t formally trained, but he can hit a moving object. Artyom is best with his pistol, but he can use an assault rifle decent as well. He would have no idea what to do with any form of heavy weapon besides point and shoot.

Ship – N/A

Activity – I’m off at 7 CST so I could generally put up a post after work.

Extras – Artyom can fly a small ship if need be, he’s no Solo, but he won’t crash.

Hellion Exiles

Since @Thread Generator SIN mentioned me, so I guess there's still some room if anybody needs a crew mate. Looking at a maybe a pirate/space scoundrel type of situation, but I'm definitely trying not to be a carbon copy of anybody do I'll definitely be reading everybody's characters!

Futuristic Space Pirates

I'm down

Alternate Fallout: New Vegas, Points of Divergence

@Letter Bee think he'll mind if I continue the plot so this doesn't die?

Alternate Fallout: New Vegas, Points of Divergence

@Letter BeeNothing that I'm particularly attached to

Alternate Fallout: New Vegas, Points of Divergence

John Williams

John looked at Ashleigh, taking in her words as well as her tough demeanor. Her gear was reminded him of the wasteland, a little scarred up, but it was still together. Perhaps that was idealistic, but a little bit of that in the wasteland probably wouldn’t kill anyone.

“A man is only as good as his word,” his tribal accent dancing on the end of his words, “ the only problem I see is the safes. Every bobby pin I come across becomes mangled. Unless you can pick it we have the options of outside help or tricks. If we can’t rely on a freesider we can only hope to talk our way in.” Again John took in Ashleigh. They perhaps weren’t the best pick for the job. Maybe with a little luck and if luck doesn’t do it a .357 might.

The sky was slowly taking a darker color. “Ashleigh tomorrow we can take to New Vegas, but this area gets dangerous at night. Those Kings are not carrying those machine guns for nothing. There’s a building further down that isn’t too destroyed.” The duo took flight and walked down the street further. After a couple of turns Par’s tenement was out of sight and John had the feeling, just an itch he could not scratch, something or somebody was stalking them. John casually pulled the hammer back and the click rang out into the deadly silence of the night.